Break Me, Shake Me
by BrokenComatose
Summary: The constant abuse. It was almost becoming routine..-Rated M for mentions of abuse and rape; Non-con RusLiet.


_{Break Me, Shake Me}_

_{By: BrokenComatose}_

_A/N: Hey! It's me again~. This time, with a totally different type o story than I normally write!_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. If I did, we would definitely be seeing more of Liet._

_Rating: M; Mentions of abuse and rape_

_Summary: He was becoming far too used to this. This wasn't normal, being so used to the constant abuse. But, he just didn't know what to do._

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><p><em>But straight away you <em>

_just moved into position again._

_You abused me in a way that I've never know._

_So break me,_

_shake me,_

_hate me,_

_take me over._

_When this madness stops,_

_you will be alone._

_-'Break Me, Shake Me' by Savage Garden_

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><p><em>Darkness.<em>

That's really all he saw. The blindfold was barely covering his eyes anymore, but he no longer had the strength to try and lit his arms to take it off. He didn't think he could lift his arms at all, no matter how hard he tried. They were worn out, tired, and abused from the constant shoving, and the fact that all his shoving and resistance got his arms handcuffed to the wall behind him didn't help things. Granted, the handcuffs were gone now, but his wrists were still sore and rubbed raw.

His whole body was sore; his arms, head, legs, but mostly, his back and hips were what hurt the worst. He was almost certain his back had gained a few more scars during the incident that just occurred.

Toris shifted a little and cried out as quietly as he could. His whole back and his legs ached, and his hips were covered in bruises in the shape of Russia's hands.

He couldn't get up, but he knew he needed to. He couldn't stay down here; the others would soon notice he would gone, and this would result in Latvia asking questions, which would then lead to Russia becoming angry with him, too, and the last thing the Baltics needed was two of them badly wounded and abused at the same time.

Knowing what he need to do, he took a deep breath and shakily planted his hands on the floor on either side of himself and pushed up, biting his already torn and bloody lip to stifle the scream his body wanted him to release.

A few inches at a time, the Lithuanian pushed himself up the wall, wincing and shaking as he did so.

Once he was back on his feet, abit unstable, he removed the blindfold from his eyes and let it drop to the floor. A few seconds passed as the brunette blinked, trying to get adjusted to the darkness.

It wasn't that much brighter without the blindfold, so Toris had to feel his way along the wall to where he knew Ivan almost always threw his clothes after he ripped them off.

His uniform jacket and pants should have been able to seen, or so he hoped. The green of his uniform should have been barely visible.

Once he had spotted the clothing, he walked over, limping and bracing one hand on the wall as he did so. He winced and bit his lip once more as he bent to pick his jacket and shirt up. The brunette man sighed when he noticed his shirt to be too torn and bloody for wear.

_'I can't wear this up there...'_

He slid his jacket on over his abused back and shoulders then folded up the shirt, slipping it into one of the many pockets his jacket had. His boxers and pants came next, but he had to take more care putting those on than he had his jacket, for it felt the whole lower part of his hips was on fire.

Toris hesitated a moment, running a few fingers through the ponytail Ivan had pulled his hair back into. With a shaky hand, he ran those same fingers down the back of his neck, shaking again slightly when he felt the wetness of blood on his fingertips. A harsh tug on the piece of fabric sent his hair tumbling back down to his shoulders, effectively hiding the newest scar.

He had been down here too long, because the sounds of angry Russian was being to filter through to the room he was in.

With a silent prayer and a shaky breath, Toris slowly ascended the stairs, ready to face that man that abused him. Broke him till he was all but in pieces. Never gave him a chance to recover.

He swung open the door reluctantly, pasting on the fake smile he always wore. His smile wouldn't last for long, he knew, because as soon as he stepped into the light of the hallway, a hand was pressing against his stomach and pining him to the wall while cold lips pressed urgently to his.

_Here it goes again..._

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><p><em>AN: I know, I know. Not what I normally write. This idea has been dancing around in my head for weeks, so I just had to write it down. Please R&R!_


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